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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319061">USELESS PRECAUTIONS</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinywhim/pseuds/tinywhim'>tinywhim</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hamilton - Fandom, Hamilton - Miranda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, hamilton is tired</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:41:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,596</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinywhim/pseuds/tinywhim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>❝I wanted to seem horrible to you, inhuman,<br/>In order to resist you better, I sought your hatred.<br/>What good were those useless precautions ?<br/>You hated me more, I didn’t love you any less.❞</p><p>The famous 'Alexander falls asleep on Jefferson during a meeting' trope. Feelings ensue. </p><p>[Modern!AU]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>265</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>USELESS PRECAUTIONS</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenrevolution/gifts">writtenrevolution</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekindworthreading/gifts">thekindworthreading</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first Jamilton fanfiction and I’m so nervous but this one is for @writtenrevolution who’s one of the best writers out their (go check our her stories because damn, they’re the stuff of legend) and to @thekindwortheading because I annoy her way too many times a day with new ideas and with how much I love Jamilton.<br/>Warnings : fluff, mention of sex, Thomas's accent.<br/>Words : 4499<br/>Beta : HamilHam, thank you so much for this, honey. You rock.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>  </p><p>    Alexander Hamilton was really good at his job. He was the best, George Washington told him so. When the President of the United States said that you were good, you had to work even harder to please him and that was exactly what the immigrant did. </p><p>    Who cared if he didn’t exactly eat three meals a day if it meant that he could send those papers he had promised Washington he would review? Who cared if he didn’t exactly <em> sleep </em> per say, but just took a quick fifteen-minute nap every now and then so that he wouldn’t drop dead on the floor? If it meant that he could review his financial plan to make it pass on the Congress floor, what harm did it do? </p><p>    The immigrant was not known to be able to take care of himself, or even have a healthy way of living. He ignored the worried looks he got from his co-workers who noticed how thin he seemed, and not the good kind of thin. He ignored them when they asked him about the last time he actually slept for more than five consecutive hours. </p><p>     He was doing just fine on his own, ge had his job and that was all that mattered. He loved his friends, of course, but they could be so annoying sometimes; always trying to make sure that he was alright. He was getting his job done and that was enough for now. </p><p>      Alexander felt the headache coming the moment Thomas fucking Jefferson walked in the room for the meeting, in his obnoxious purple suit that only he could pull off. Yes, it was indeed ugly and Alexander would have burned the damn thing himself if it didn’t perfectly cling to every curve of the Virginian’s toned body. </p><p>      Alexander shook his head, frowning. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t think about Jefferson that way ever again. He had put those feelings away a long time ago; locked them in a dark part of his heart, so they wouldn’t ever see the light of the sun again. If he already fell asleep in the past, thinking about those strong arms wrapped around him, sheltering him from the outside world, or about how he smelled like exotic fruits, and about how his hair smelled like coconut... Well... Nobody needed to know. </p><p>       Alexander tried his best to stay awake during the meeting; it wasn’t like it was an important one. There weren’t even many people there, only the two secretaries, James Madison, Lafayette, Angelica Schuyler… What the hell was Aaron Burr doing there anyway? Still, Jefferson’s voice was soothing and he hadn’t slept in more than a week and his shoulder was warm… </p><p>    Thomas stopped talking as soon as he felt a certain pressure on his shoulder and light snoring. He blinked, then slowly turned his head to see that Hamilton was asleep on him. He was about to shake him awake, to remind him how inconsiderate and unprofessional it was to sleep at work with a patronizing smirk, but his breath got caught up in his throat when he noticed how<em> peaceful </em> the man seemed. </p><p> </p><p>“Everyone please, don’t make a noise,” Washington quietly requested, causing everyone to stop breathing.</p><p>“What is it, your Excellency? Is something wrong?” Lafayette asked, with worried eyes. </p><p>“Alexander is asleep.” The president merely replied, looking at the younger man. </p><p>“Well I’m gonna wake him up…” Thomas started but was quickly cut off by his boss. </p><p>“Don’t you dare.”</p><p> </p><p>    George Washington had a way of giving orders that made you not want to disobey because you knew that the consequences of such an action could be dire. Thomas froze with his eyes wide, confused. </p><p> </p><p>“I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“The last time Hamilton slept probably was two weeks ago. He <em> needs </em>this.”</p><p>“But we have to talk, sir. We’ll wake him up anyway.” Thomas retorted.</p><p>“We’ll reschedule the meeting,” he declared. “Everyone’s dismissed. Lafayette will send you an email to brief you on the situation.”</p><p>    Some relieved sighs were heard and everyone silently retreated back to their office. Angelica quickly snapped a picture of the two rivals as she left, probably as blackmail material, before addressing Thomas a sweet smile. The latter blinked, having no idea of what he was supposed to do. He tried to move but Hamilton stirred, which resulted in having the older man stop breathing until he felt Hamilton relax once again. </p><p>“Sir, what am I supposed to do?” He asked his boss, clueless.</p><p>“I guess you’ll have to take a break, Jefferson.”</p><p>“But I have work to do,” he scoffed. “And I can’t get behind because this little gremlin doesn’t have a normal sleeping schedule.”</p><p>“You’re one of my best workers, Thomas,” Washington replied. “I know that you can have an afternoon off without falling behind.”</p><p>“Are you asking me to stay here all afternoon so that Hamilton can sleep on me?”</p><p>“Are you refusing?” The older man arched an eyebrow, challenging him.</p><p>    Thomas averted his eyes before swallowing hard. Who would be crazy enough to accept a challenge from George Washington? Even Alexander Hamilton knew it better to stay quiet when it came to the President of the United States. </p><p>“No, sir.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>    With that, Washington turned around and left the room. </p><p>“I wish I could have the afternoon off as well,” James sighed as he looked at his best friend. “He looks comfortable here.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“You know… I’ve sat beside Alexander many times in the past, he never fell asleep on me.” James said.</p><p>“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“This might be an opportunity for you, after all,” his best friend chuckled. “Weren’t you just dreaming about it?”</p><p>“Shut the fuck up, Jemmy, I’m not kidding.”</p><p>“Bye Thomas.”</p><p> </p><p>      Thomas prayed for Hamilton to wake up as soon as possible but when an hour passed, a very long hour he spent on his phone (thank god he had e-books to read), Alexander had not really moved. The man was a heavy sleeper and Thomas had never pictured him as such, but then again, he was not surprised. From what he had heard from his co-workers, Hamilton didn’t really get much sleep. He knew that one day the immigrant would kill himself by overworking, and what a shame it would be.</p><p>     He used that moment to properly look at the man; it was almost ironic to see how angelic Hamilton seemed when he was asleep. It was at that moment that Thomas realized how young he was compared to him, how fragile he seemed compared to when he was awake, screaming at the world. Thomas didn’t realize that a small smile had curled the corners of his lips as he observed the immigrant. </p><p>     Hamilton was handsome, there was no denying in that. He had heard of his tomcat nature, of his ways with men and women alike. He’d heard of his relationship with the beautiful Elizabeth Schuyler, and about how everyone thought that they would get married and have children but the two had parted ways and were still good friends. He had heard about how people called him a pretty boy when he wasn’t around. </p><p>     Because Thomas Jefferson would be damned if Alexander Hamilton wasn’t a pretty boy. To see him so calm; so serene, made him feel<em> things, </em>things he thought he’d buried deep down in the depth of his soul, things he had refused to acknowledge ever since he had become aware of their existence. </p><p>     Alexander Hamilton hated Thomas Jefferson, that was common knowledge. Yes, it hurt the man, but he had grown used to it and it was easier to hide his feelings that way. Pretending, he could do that, he was good at pretending. If he pretended to be an arrogant, pompous asshole so that it was easier for Hamilton to hate him, well, nobody needed to know. </p><p>      When it was past six and his stomach growled, Thomas looked down to see the younger man still asleep and it didn’t look like he was going to wake up anytime soon. He tried to wake him up, but Hamilton didn’t move. He simply sighed before making a decision that he would probably regret in the morning.</p><p>      If Angelica hid her smile when she saw Thomas carrying a sleeping Alexander in the corridors, and if she saw how the immigrant’s grip on the Virginian tightened; how he nuzzled his nose in the crook of the other man’s neck, well, nobody needed to know. </p><p>    Thomas didn’t understand how Hamilton stayed asleep despite being carried around, or with the noise of traffic. He managed to bring him to his penthouse without having the man stir even once. He didn’t like how light Hamilton felt in his arms, how thin he was. He was almost tempted to wake him up with a cold shower so that he could force food down his throat. </p><p>    Had the man even heard of a three-course meal? Thomas doubted it. Still, he knew how much the immigrant needed to sleep. So when he cooked dinner, he cooked more than he was used to, so that if the little gremlin sleeping in the guest room woke up in the middle of the night, his stomach could have something consistent to rely upon. </p><p>    When it was eleven, he checked on Hamilton, who was all curled up under the covers, looking impossibly adorable. Thomas had to take a picture to have proof that it was real, that he was not dreaming this. It was selfish, but he didn’t care. </p><p>     He got closer to him and gently caressed his face, wishing that the poor man could actually sleep on a daily basis; not ten hours in a row because he had forgotten to do so for a week or two. As he was about to get up and leave, he felt a hand grip his wrist. He froze and stopped breathing, his heart pounding in his ears. </p><p> “Thomas,” Alexander murmured. “Stay.”</p><p>     Hamilton was beyond tired. He had no idea what he was saying. He wasn’t himself. Thomas tried to find any explanation possible for such words to cross the immigrant’s lips but none satisfied him. It wasn't that he didn’t want to; he simply didn’t want the man to regret it in the morning. If Hamilton frowned while he was still clearly asleep, and rubbed his cheek against the Virginian’s hand, and if Thomas happily obliged, nobody needed to know. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>    When Alexander woke up, he was hungry. Hell, he was<em> famished. </em> He blinked his drowsiness away and looked around. He quickly noticed that he was not in his apartment. He tried to fish for his phone in his pockets but to no avail. Did he get drunk and have a one night stand? He groaned at the prospect. He thought that he was passed that by now. </p><p>    He stretched as he got out of bed, grateful to see that he was still dressed and that he didn’t feel any pain in his backside either. He heard some noise from what he guessed to be either the living room or the kitchen. He tiptoed across the corridors, wondering if he should just leave or look for the owner of the flat. </p><p>    Alexander expected many things but seeing Thomas Jefferson, shirtless, watching Ru Paul’s drag race was not one of them. He blinked a couple of times, trying to understand what the hell was happening before making his way to the couch where the older man was seated. </p><p>“Hum… hey.” He tried.</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>“What… What happened?”</p><p>    Thomas tore his gaze from the television to look at him. He was wearing glasses, and he was shirtless. Fuck, the man looked like he was carved out of fucking marble. Didn’t this fucker spend most of his time eating macaroni and cheese? How could he eat that shit and still look like that? Did he hit the gym? Alexander had no idea. The only thing he knew was that he wanted to touch those abs, he wanted to<em> lick </em> them.</p><p> </p><p>“You fell asleep during a meeting, yesterday,” Thomas responded. “You didn’t wake up so I had to take you back to mine, because I have no idea where you live.”</p><p>    Alexander’s eyes grew comically wide and Thomas did his best to hide his grin behind a well-rehearsed poker face. Hamilton just waking up was quite a sight, he looked absolutely adorable with his sleepy eyes and his messy hair. It took every ounce of strength he had left in his body for not to cradle the younger man in his arms.</p><p>“When you said during a meeting, do you mean when everyone had already left?” Alexander asked, hopefully.</p><p>“I mean in the middle of it and Washington had to postpone it.”</p><p>“Fuck me.”</p><p>“Is that an offer?” Thomas smirked, but the man was too horrified to catch on to his innuendo. </p><p>“Washington is going to kill me.”</p><p>“Actually, Washington was happy to see you sleep.”</p><p>“You’re kidding.” Alexander scoffed, a scowl on his face. </p><p>“Not at all. He ordered me not to move so I wouldn’t wake you up.”</p><p>“Please, tell me that no one knows.”</p><p>“Angelica has a picture.” Thomas responded calmly.</p><p>“Are you fucking kidding me?” </p><p>“I wish I was.” At least Thomas sounded sympathetic.</p><p>“Fuck, it must be trending on Twitter by now,” he frowned, his hands ruffling his hair. “Hell, even France must know by now.”</p><p>“Now, you’re just being dramatic.” Thomas retorted.</p><p>“Aren’t you upset by all of this?”</p><p>“Should I be?” Thomas asked, unimpressed by the smaller man’s temper. </p><p>“Well, it’s your image!”</p><p>“Hamilton, you were taking a nap, why do you care?”</p><p>“But we don’t- I don’t- we’re not-” Alexander tried, but failed to express his thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>    Oh… What Thomas would have given to know what was happening in his brain at that moment. </p><p> </p><p>“When was the last time you slept that much?”</p><p>“How long was I asleep?” Alexander asked.</p><p>“Around fifteen hours, give or take.”</p><p> </p><p>    Alexander froze. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re not serious.” He said in disbelief.</p><p>“I am, you fell asleep around four yesterday.” Thomas responded.</p><p>“I’ve never slept that much in my life.” He replied with wide eyes. </p><p>“How much do you sleep, normally?”</p><p>“Three or four hours, if I’m lucky. Most of the time I just take short naps.”</p><p>“How are you even alive?” Thomas asked, bewildered. </p><p>“Sheer force of spite, will, and coffee.”</p><p>“You’re going to kill yourself if you keep going like this.” Thomas frowned. </p><p>“No, I’m not.”</p><p>“Why did you fall asleep on me during the meeting?” He asked instead, knowing that the man wouldn’t budge from his position. </p><p>“I was tired.” Alexander lamely replied.</p><p>“You’ve been tired many times at work, Hamilton. But you never fell asleep. Especially not on me.” </p><p> </p><p>    Thomas heard him mumble something under his breath. </p><p> </p><p>“What was that?” Thomas asked, tilting his head. </p><p>“You smell nice,” the immigrant replied, averting his eyes. “And you have a soothing voice.”</p><p> </p><p>    The corner of Thomas’s mouth slightly twitched up. </p><p> </p><p>“Is that so?” Thomas asked, amused.</p><p>“Shut up, fucker.”</p><p>    Alexander expected Thomas to snap, he expected Thomas to yell at him for calling him that, but the man merely shook his head and laughed. He<em> laughed. </em> His head was thrown back, his eyes were closed with wrinkles kissing them, his grin was wide. Alexander felt his heart take another beat as he observed the beautiful man in front of him. </p><p>“What’s so funny?” He frowned. </p><p>“You, this, us. This situation is funny.” Thomas replied, still chuckling.</p><p>“How? It’s weird, not funny.” Alexander stated.</p><p>“I’m here with the man who hates my gut and he’s telling me that I smell nice and that I have a soothing voice. I have to enjoy it while it lasts.” </p><p>“I don’t hate you.” He said before he could think before of it.</p><p>    Alexander cursed his big mouth. He didn’t mean to say it, Jefferson was not supposed to know. He had to think that he hated him, that was how it had always been between the two of them. He could handle the fights, he could handle the insults and snarky remarks because at least he had something to cling to. He didn’t care if it was hate or love. He knew he couldn’t have the love and he was perfectly fine to settle with hatred, at least he had something that way. </p><p>“Yes, you do.” Thomas slowly spoke as if Alex was stupid. </p><p>    Alex did not reply. </p><p>“Yes, you do,” the Southern repeated once again, his voice trembling. “Because those are the rules, Alexander.”</p><p>    His eyes snapped up when he heard the Virginian say his name. It sounded so nice with his accen, he dragged every syllable and Alexander was sure that he had never heard his name being pronounced that way. He loved it. He wanted Thomas to say his name again; he wanted him to moan it, to pant it. He wanted it to be the only word leaving Thomas’ lips.</p><p>“Those are the rules…” Thomas repeated, almost desperately.</p><p>    He frowned, confused as Thomas kept his head low, mumbling something that Alexander couldn’t hear. He could see how tense the man was, and he regretted having said those words. Only a few minutes ago, Thomas had been laughing and he wanted to go back to that. He clenched his fists, knowing that the best thing he could do was to leave. It wasn’t like he could do anything more here.</p><p>“I should go,” he merely replied with a low voice. “Thanks for… Whatever this was.”</p><p>    He turned around to leave but was stopped when Thomas spoke again.</p><p>“Wait.”</p><p>    Thomas got up and walked in front of him, perfectly knowing that Alexander had no intention of looking back because that was what Alexander did, he only moved foward. He couldn’t avoid him like that, he had to face him. He had to see his face. He couldn’t let him go without saying anything, not after last night.</p><p>“Last night you asked me to stay and we slept together.” Thomas said.</p><p>“Did we-”</p><p>“No, we just slept, Alexander, but you asked me to stay.”</p><p>“I didn’t know what I was doing,” he lied. “I didn’t mean…”</p><p>“You called my name.”</p><p>    Alexander froze. So it hadn’t been a dream, then. It was no wonder he felt incredibly rested; he’d slept with Thomas. He was so used to sleeping alone… Having someone to hold felt<em> nice </em>.</p><p>“What is it, Alexander?” Thomas asked.</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“What you’re hiding from me,” Thomas said. “What is it that you are so scared to share?”</p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Alexander replied, but his voice said otherwise.</p><p>“Come on, Alexander, you’re a better liar than that.”</p><p> </p><p>      He was right, Alexander was such a talented liar but he always chose to say the truth. how could he say the truth now? How could he fuck up everything he'd built for years?</p><p> </p><p>“I-I don’t… ah… I don’t want to…” He tried to blink the tears away, because fuck he didn’t want Jefferson to see him crying. </p><p>    Thomas tensed when he saw how distressed Alexander suddenly was. How could he be so blind? How could he be so selfish? How could he ask Alexander to lay his feelings before him and expect him to oblige? His hands found Alexander's hips, stroking them in a soothing manner. If it worked, nobody needed to know.</p><p>“Hey, it’s alright, I don’t-” Thomas sighed. “I just thought that you…” he paused, frowning. “Nevermind.”</p><p>    Alexander made a decision. It was something he might regret for the rest of his life, or maybe not. He had no idea, but he knew that things had changed. He couldn’t go back to his house and pretend that this never happened. He couldn’t go back to work and face Thomas just like he did at the beginning of the week. </p><p>      What worse could happen? Thomas could kick him out of his house, yell at him, mock him, tweet the words he said but then… Would it be different from their daily routine of constantly fighting with each other? No. If Alexander admitted that there was something here, even if he was rejected, he could try move on, because right now, he couldn't.</p><p>     He knew that Thomas hated him, he had tried everything to do so, but it didn’t mean that there wasn’t a tiny sparkle of hope burning in his heart as he looked at the man’s face. God, had he always been so beautiful? How was the man still single with such a handsome face and perfect body? </p><p>“There’s this French-” Alexander swallowed hard. “This fFrench poet who once wrote something… Something that… Perfectly fits with my situation. He said, ‘j'ai voulu te paraître odieuse, inhumaine. Pour mieux te résister, j'ai recherché ta haine. De quoi m'ont profité mes inutiles soins? Tu me haïssais plus, je ne t'aimais pas moins.’”</p><p>    Thomas’s heart leaped in his chest, trying to break out of its prison of bones. He could see how hard it was for Alexander to say those words, to sat the truth, to confess in a language that his mother taught him when he was a child; a language that perfectly described what love felt like. </p><p>“It means…”</p><p>“I know what it means,” Thomas softly spoke. “I’ve been to France, remember? I was the ambassador there, for years.”</p><p>“Oh.”Alexander had forgotten about that.</p><p>“Is it the truth?”</p><p>“You know what the opposite of love is?” Alexander suddenly asked. </p><p>“Indifference.” Thomas replied, and Alex was not surprised that he got the answer right.</p><p>“Exactly. I didn’t want that with you, I had to choose and I chose hate because at least you would feel something for me. There would be a part of you thinking about me.”</p><p>    Alex refused to meet Thomas’s eyes. He didn’t want to see what he expected to see, pity or even worse, indifference. He could handle Thomas hating his guts. He could handle having his nose pressed against his while screaming about<em> how wrong </em> he was about everything, but he couldn’t handle indifference, he couldn’t handle having the man ignoring him. The game was over now, Alexander had played his cards and he had lost.</p><p>    He tensed when he felt Thomas’s fingers on his chin, gently tilting his head up so that he would meet his eyes. They were the only thing he could see now and what a pretty sight that was. If there was one thing that Alexander loved about Thomas more than his smile, it was his eyes. They were the prettiest shade of brown that he had ever seen.</p><p>    When the sun shone through them, they turned into a liquid pool of honey and Alexander could spend hours writing sonnets about the golden hues reflecting in Thomas’s eyes. He could fill a whole notebook about how he loved Thomas’s hair, the way it surrounded his perfect face like a halo, about the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes...  About <em> him </em>.</p><p>“You should have told me, Alexander,” the man murmured. “You would have spared us many years of frustration.”</p><p>“It’s not my fault!” the immigrant immediately retorted. “I thought that-” he paused. “Wait.”</p><p>      He blinked. </p><p>“What did you just say?” Alexander asked.</p><p>“You would have spared us many years of frustration.” The southerner repeated.</p><p>“Because…?” Alexander’s voice trembled as he pronounced those words. </p><p>    Because he knew what it would mean. It meant that everything was going to change. He wasn’t sure of how he was going to cope with it, but he wouldn’t be alone anymore, would he? Thomas pressed his lips in a thin line as he observed Alexander. </p><p>    The man was squiming under his gaze and looking at him with his big beautiful eyes and there was nothing else that Thomas wanted to do than to kiss him. Slowly, as if not to scare the younger man away, Thomas leaned in, pressing his lips on Alexander’s.</p><p>    Alexander then realized three things. First, Thomas’s lips were the sweetest things he had ever tasted. Secondly, Thomas liked him back. Lastly, Thomas Jefferson was a God. He was Jupiter and Alexander Hamilton was just another moon caught in his orbit. </p><p>      It was supposed to be a chaste kiss; a soft confession, but it quickly turned into something more heated, more frantic, because of course, it would turn like into something like that if Alexander was involved. Thomas gasped and Alexander found his tongue and they both moaned, their hearts pressed against each other, beating as one. </p><p>     They both poured everything they had into that kiss, years of yearning, of craving, of frustration, of hopelessness, until it became too much. When they broke out of the kiss to breathe again, Thomas pressed his forehead against Alexander’s. </p><p>“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” Alexander admitted. </p><p>“Me too.” Thomas chuckled. </p><p>      Thomas felt so much lighter now, as if a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders. He looked at the smaller man and he felt his heart swell with joy at the mere thought of having him as<em> his. </em> He had dreamed of that so many times in the past, dreamed so much that he became sure that it would only remain a fantasy, but today it became real. It became tangible. He could touch it, he could touch <em> him. </em></p><p>“I have no idea where we stand now.”</p><p>“I don’t know either,” Thomas said. “But whatever this is,” he looked at their intertwined hands. “We stand together.”</p><p>     Then, Alexander’s stomach grumbled loudly and the man blushed. He panicked when Thomas started detangling himself from him. Was he already regretting what was said? What was Alex supposed to do? Was he supposed to leave? </p><p>“What are you doing?” Alexander asked.</p><p>“I’m going to cook something,” the Southerner replied. “I can’t have you die because you’re starving now, can I?”</p><p>“Oh, right,” he said, feeling stupid. “But can you still hold my hand?” he asked. “I don’t want to let go right now.”</p><p>    Thomas swallowed before smiling and taking his lover’s hand into his. Even if it was not really practical, the man cooked with the little gremlin tied to his hips, teaching him how to cook the perfect omelette. It was something he had learned when he was in Paris. The immigrant was not disappointed, it was the best breakfast he had ever eaten, but he merely huffed an ‘<em>it tastes alright</em>.’ because he’d be damned if he was going to feed the Virginian's ego.   </p><p>    They still argued and it reassured Alexander because he didn’t want their relationship to change. Sure, instead of saying <em> fuck Jefferson </em>he’d rather be actually fucking him, but he didn’t want the spark between them to fade; to die out. Thomas proved to him that such a thing would not happen. They spent the whole day discovering each other’s bodies and souls and Alex even got to lick those abs he had dreamed about so many times.</p><p>    He regretted not having said anything about his feelings before because he could have been with Thomas much earlier and it felt as if they had lost years that should have been theirs, but when he looked at the man he could now call his, as he was applying the coconut shit on his hair that Alex loved so much, he thought that maybe, it wasn’t that bad to have waited, after all. Thomas’s body was warm against his skin. Alexander slept soundlessly that night, and all the other nights that followed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>come talk to me on my <a href="https://tinywhim.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>.</p><p>You can buy me a coffee <a href="https://ko-fi.com/tinywhim">here</a> if you want.</p><p>
  <a href="https://tinywhim.tumblr.com/post/613685044646690816/i-am-screaming-thank-you-so-much-oh-my-god-you">fanart</a>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tell me what you thought of it and if I should actually write more Jamilton.<br/>The quote is from Jean Racine and it means :</p><p>"I wanted to seem horrible to you, inhuman,<br/>In order to resist you better, I sought your hatred.<br/>What good were those useless precautions ?<br/>You hated me more, I didn’t love you any less."</p><p>Which I think it perfectly illustrates Jamilton, don't you think ?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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